Emotionally Compromised
by FriendlyneighborhoodSatan
Summary: I control my emotions John! That's how I do it. I control my emotions, stuff them down so they won't distract me. They'd affect my work otherwise. I have almost perfect control. Entirely perfect until you. But every time you do that, say we're not a couple, I lose control for a few seconds And it's all your fault! You've messed me up John Watson, and I don't know how!
1. Chapter 1

They were checking into an old hotel in Scotland when it happened. They had traveled there for a case, despite John's protests and pleas to find a case within a closer proximity. Sherlock had insisted however, that they go to Scotland to investigate a serial killer, famous for stabbing their victims with scissors. John could never really get his flatmate to accept no as an answer, so they headed out the day after the job was brought to Sherlock's attention. The detective of course, had forgotten to think of details such as where they would sleep. So there John was, at an old hotel in southern Scotland, hoping desperately that they had a room available, while Sherlock leaned boredly against the check-in desk like a child.

Finally, a cheerful-looking woman came to help them. "Hello, are you looking for a room?" she asked in a fake peppy voice. John sighed in relief, happy to be speaking to another sane human being. "Yes, finally. I need a room for me and my friend over there." He said pointing to Sherlock, who was now standing behind him looking irritated. "Right. One king then?" she asked. John jaw ticked slightly, and his cheeks were dusted with a light shade of pink. "N-no, we're not- I mean, I'm- we aren't a couple!" he stuttered. The woman smirked at him, as if she knew something John didn't. Sherlock, observing all this, balled his fist, and uncurled them slowly, as a means of calming down. An odd expression graced the detective's features, something distinctly bad, emotion-wise. John didn't notice.

"No, it's fine, really." The desk woman said, still smiling. "We don't mind your kind here, nothing to be discreet about." John sighed angrily. "No, seriously, we're not a damn couple!" John said, raising his voice to just below a shout. A few people turned to stare, which both the doctor and detective elected to ignore. John glared at the woman like an angry teenager. She simply blinked in surprise, and muttered "Alright, two queens then." Meanwhile, Sherlock's expression had gone stony and cold, like the face he uses for interrogating criminals. "John," he said, voice tense and irritated, "I'll be outside if you need me." And with that, the genius stormed out of the hotel, and out into the rain.

John reluctantly chased after him. He found Sherlock sitting on top of a random car, looking like he was in deep thought. "Sherlock!" John called, getting the other man' attention. "What the hell was that?" he demanded. Sherlock slid off the roof of the car, and walked slowly over to John. "I left the room because I didn't want to be in it, and I didn't see a reason to stay. Why is that complicated?" he said, staring aloofly at John. The doctor sighed. "Yes, I got that Sherlock, but why did you leave? What's wrong?" he asked. It was clear that he was trying to understand, so Sherlock, in a moment of weakness, was honest.

"You were doing it again. It bothers me tremendously. I wish you'd stop." He said, as if that explained everything. "Stop doing what, Sherlock? Stop talking, stop breathing?" he asked sarcastically. Sherlock sighed dramatically "Stop telling people we're not a couple! It's annoying." Sherlock elaborated. This only served to make John more confused. "But we aren't a couple. I don't know why people keep assuming we are. Why don't you like me saying it?" he asked. "It's repetitive and dull." Sherlock snapped quickly. Too quickly. John narrowed his eyes, detecting Sherlock's bullshit.

"Sherlock, I know you too well for that." He said flatly. "Why do you really not like it?" Sherlock turned away, avoiding John's gaze. "it doesn't matter John." He said harshly. John blinked in surprise. "Sherlock? What's going on?" John asked suspiciously. The genius suddenly whirled around to face John again, a wild, angry look in his eye.

"I control my emotions John!" he said, getting up in the doctor's face. John simply blinked as his flatmate continued. "That's how I do it. I control my emotions, stuff them down so they won't distract me. They'd affect my work otherwise. I have almost perfect control. Entirely perfect until you." The detective ranted.

John watched, listening quietly as his best friend raged. "But every time you do that, say we're not a couple, I lose control for a few seconds. I feel _anger_, and _sadness,_ and _hurt _and _betrayal_." He said, sounding disgusted with himself. A slow theory was forming in John's mind. But no, he couldn't mean it like that.

"And when you shake you head at me and call me an idiot, I feel _happy!_" The detective continued. "_Happy. _That you called me an idiot! And then there's that ridiculous fuzzy feeling I get when you smile and it's so damn annoying!" John's eyes were wide as saucers as his brain processed this new information. "And it's all your fault! You've messed me up John Watson, and I don't know how!" he was practically shouting now, breathe coming in short pants as he turned the full force of his angry gaze onto John.

"Hang on, hang on." The army doctor said, cutting in to whatever Sherlock was planning to say next. "You feel sad and hurt when I say we're not together, and you get happy when I call you and idiot?" he asked. Sherlock nodded. "Sherlock, I know that is. Everyone does. I would've thought even an idiot like you would recognize it." Sherlock looked at him expectantly. "It's love, Sherlock. You're in love with me." John explained.

The detective's eyes widened in realization. "Oh" he muttered, more to himself than to John. "Yes, romantic love. That makes sense. It all makes sense." The detective chanced a look at John, who was watching amusedly. Sherlock's eyes were wide, and John could tell he was in deep thought. Finally, the taller man met John's eyes.

A light, barely noticeable pink dusted his sharp cheekbones. John might've laughed if things hadn't been so serious. Sherlock was…blushing? "I-I have to go. I'll be in the hotel." He said, looking nervous. He then spun around dramatically, and stalked off, back into the building.

John never thought he'd see the day that he could make Sherlock flustered. He rolled his eyes. "I'm coming with you idiot." He said, walking quickly to catch up with his flatmate. John absolutely did _not _only use the word idiot to see Sherlock's reaction. Not at all.

As they walked, John tried to keep the smile off his face. Because he was not _at all_ pleased that Sherlock was in love with him.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter two:

The subject wasn't brought up again until a few weeks later. After the case in Scotland, things had been relatively normal at Baker Street, as far as things go. They hadn't solve a lot of cases, despite how Sherlock had been more prone to boredom than normal. All and all, they acted as if the confession outside that hotel had never happened. And it worked well, until Mycroft became involved.

The elder Holmes was in the flat, uninvited as usual. Sherlock leisurely strolled out of his bedroom, holding what looked like a bag of fingers. "No." he said, not even looking up. Both John and Mycroft sighed, exasperated. "Oh, c'mon Sherlock. You don't even know what he was going to say." John protested. "He was going to ask about a case. I can't I'm busy." The detective replied. "Busy? We haven't had a case yesterday morning, and you're through with all your experiments. Besides, you normally drop everything for a case." John argued. Sherlock glared at John and his brother, before swiftly leaving the room.

"Fix this, John. Fix him." Mycroft said, sounding exasperated. John furrowed his brows. "Fix him? He's fine. Bit of tosser, especially in the last few weeks, but otherwise he's fine." John insisted. Mycroft fixed him with a judgmental look. "John, my brother has always been irritating. It's just recently that he's become insufferable entirely. Throwing fits, blowing things up, bored all the time, but not taking as many cases. He shot twelve London security cameras this week alone. He in the middle of some sort of childish sulking Dr. Watson, and it's your own fault." Mycroft said.

John blinked in surprise. "What? How's this my fault?" he demanded. The Queen rolled his eyes. Seems he was going to have to spell it out. "He's upset because he's afraid that you're angry with him. That you're judging him in some way." He explained. Realization slowly dawned on the doctor. "Wait, is this about that thing in Scotland?" he asked. Mycroft tried not to get annoyed that John had referred to Sherlock's love confession as "that thing". "Yes, John, my ridiculous brother is afraid that you don't…love him back." Mycroft said, voice tinged with distaste near the end.

"But I don't! I mean, it's not that I don't- I mean, he's my best friend I just- I'm not gay!" John protested incoherently. Mycroft gave a melodramatic sigh. "Oh please, it's obvious John. You're playing He-loves-me, he-loves-me-not with one of the smartest men in the whole of Britain, and it's getting annoying. Your denial is hurting you both. " The elder Holmes stated. John clenched and unclenched his fists. Finally, he sighed in defeat. "So I'm that obvious am I?" he asked quietly.

Mycroft smirked. "Quite." He said. John ran his hands over his face, looking tired. "I didn't even mean to, I just, when he brought it up…I realized that I-" John was cut off. "I'm sorry John, you might have mistaken that response for me caring. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to be going. Tell him how you feel before he ruins something important in this silly fit he's throwing." Mycroft said. And with that, he grabbed his umbrella, and left abruptly, slamming the door behind him. John was left, staring at the wall, debating whether or not to take his advice.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter three:

John tentatively knocked on Sherlock's bedroom door, nervous of making the detective angry. The door swung open, revealing Sherlock lying on his bed, staring aimlessly at the ceiling. His eyes snapped towards John as he entered the room. "Well, get on with it." He said, sounding impatient. He stiffened, as if steeling himself for a blow.

"What? Get on with what?" John asked, mouth suddenly dry. Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Please, it was obvious. Mycroft's convinced you to talk to me about what happened in Scotland, and you're here to tell me that you love me, but as a friend. Then, you're going to ask that I delete this entire conversation so things can go back to the way they were." Sherlock predicted.

John couldn't help but get a small smile on his face, as he thought of what he needed to say next. "Sherlock, you've probably never heard this before, and never will again, but you're wrong." John said. The detective's eyes widened just a fraction. "Oh? What did I miss?" he asked. John sat down on the foot of the bed. "Well, you got some of it. Mycroft did convince me to talk to you. But you've got what I wanted to say all wrong." John told him. Sherlock swallowed nervously, such an ordinary thing to do that John can't help but crack a smile. The detective sat up, looking John straight in the eye for the first time in the conversation.

"Really?" he asked, appearing calm despite the thudding of his chest. "What are you planning on saying then?"

John played with a string on his jumper, eyes flickering nervously to the detective. Why was this so hard? Finally, he took a deep breath, summoning his courage. "I- uh- I love you too, Sherlock." He said.

Sherlock grinned, looking as excited as he had when he solved a particularly interesting crime. "Good. Yes, that's good. After all, I think unrequited love would affect my work." He said. John can't help but laugh, because even at times like this, Sherlock was thinking of his work.

John scooted closer to the detective, never once breaking eye contact. Slowly they both leaned in, until their noses were touching. And then they were kissing. Sherlock was a little clumsy because he'd never done it before, but it was perfect.

Sherlock couldn't help but think that maybe, caring wasn't a weakness after all. And if it was, well so be it.


	4. Epilogue

Epilogue:

It was their first case since becoming a couple. At first, they didn't plan on telling the Yarders, because they would find out on their own eventually. Sherlock didn't really care one way or another, seeing as how they already managed to find out that he was gay, and Sally was just as prone to calling him "faggot" as she was to calling him "freak". John however, didn't really want anyone to know quite yet. So, they tried to act as if everything was normal.

They came to the crime scene as usual, with a rude greeting from Sally Donavan. "Hey there, Freak. Gossip is you got yourself a boyfriend," she said, smirking at the pair. John went scarlet, while Sherlock simply ignored her and kept walking. John reluctantly followed him under the caution tape, and into the crime scene.

They made quick work of the crime, Sherlock identifying a lead within the first two minutes. After all this time, John couldn't help but marvel as he watched his boyfriend work, occasionally adding comments like "Brilliant" or "Amazing" when he was particularly impressed.

They were so close to getting away with it, and had thought they were in the clear when it happened. "So, when did this happen?" Lestrade asked, indicating to the two. John nearly dropped the torch he was holding. 'What this? I don't know what you're talking about," he said quickly. The DI crossed his arms, cocking an eyebrow at them. "Oh, c'mon. it's obvious. The little smiles, the brushing hands, the eyefucking. How long have you been a thing?" he asked. Sherlock looked up from his coffee. "3 days, 10 hours, and 43 minutes." He rattled off. Lestrade glanced at them, amused by their couplyness.

John turned to his boyfriend, a small smirk on his face. "Idiot." He laughed, shaking his head.


End file.
